Reunion
by Caseychu
Summary: Charles is worried about the drop in Dethklok's female fan base. Nathan is worried about his strange feelings for Charles. The two have the same solution, just not in a way anyone expected. Nathan/Charles, subtle hints of Skwisgaar/Toki, FemOC/FemOC
1. Drop

Nathan watched as Charles' hand moved up toward his face and wondered if he was going to do that... thing again. He watched that hand and tense up with excitement, only to feel disappointed when a flat palm came down on the area of the mattress next to his head.

Charles used the new leverage to move his body up along Nathan's, bare skin sliding against bare skin. His glasses were still on, but for some reason Nathan liked it that way. He rubbed his bottom lip up Nathan's chin before tilting his head for a feral but slow kiss, tongue expertly leading without being aggressive. That was always Charles' strong point in his relationship with Nathan.

In an awkward response to his distraction, Nathan found himself staring at the ceiling, spacing out and putting his body on autopilot while his manager straddled his hips, both of them naked and sweaty. What had that been? It was a really weird thing coming from someone like Charles. Even after getting to know the man (much) more intimately, that on act still have him very confused.

He'd tried to get Charles drunk with the band a second time, but that didn't produce the result he wanted. He tried getting him drunk a third time, with just the two of them, but that only lead to a failed attempt at sex and Nathan having to sneak out of Charles' bedroom the next morning. That was the only time they'd ever messed up and fallen asleep together. Usually Charles was more careful.

"What is it, Nathan?"

Nathan blinked a couple times and finally looked up at the man he was supposed to be having sex with. His mouth was still open like it had been while they were kissing, but it was empty and Charles was sitting up, glasses reflecting the dim, incoming moonlight.

"What's what?" he asked.

"_You_ called me here tonight," Charles reminded him.

"Yeah, no, I know." Nathan moved his hands to Charles' hips, rubbing his thumbs on them while staring at random pieces of furniture around the room. "I just, uh, I had a question."

"You had a question right now?"

"Yeah."

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

Charles' eyes slid shut as he sighed. "What is it?"

"What's this?" He reached on hand up to Charles' check and ran his index finger down the side of the other man's face.

He did it a few more times before Charles stopped him. "That's you poking me in the face, Nathan. That's what that is. It's also annoying."

"No, what is it when _you_ do it?"

"I'm not following."

Nathan propped himself up on his elbows. "When we got you drunk after Melmord left you kept doing it to me all night. What is it?"

"I don't really remember that night, Nathan. You boys got me very drunk."

"Yeah, I guess."

Silence fell over the room and Charles took it as a wordless admission that nothing was going to happen that night. Nathan didn't protest as he watched the other man get dressed leave. He knew how to contact Charles if he needed him. Or wanted him.

- (/) - (/) -

"Doods, it's already been a week an' I'm still havin' fuckin' flashbacks about Christmas," Pickles announced as he walked into the main room and let his body fall onto the couch opposite Nathan.

Swisgaar was staring ahead at nothing, eyes black and heavy from lack of sleep. "I can'ts sleep. The clowns just keeps gettings H-job froms my whores mother."

Nathan opted to continue reading the newspaper, intent on using denial to forget the entire event ever happened. Toki had locked himself in his room the moment they got back from that fiasco, and no one had seen him since. No one in the band, anyways. Klokateers were sent to check on him regularly.

The remaining four members groaned as soon as they saw Ofdensen walk in the door.

"No," Murderface said from an arcade machine as soon as his manger took a breath in to begin speaking.

"No what, William?"

"No. Whatever it isch, no."

"I did some interesting research to see how your fanbase responded to that Christmas Special," he told them.

"What special?" Nathan asked.

"Pretending it didn't happen isn't going to work, Nathan."

Nathan shrugged. "Workin' pretty good so far."

"Well I was looking into how your audience demographics have changed over time. You've been steadily losing your female fanbase."

Nathan laid his paper on his lap, Swisgaar stopped playing guitar, Pickles sat up and Murderface's character died in the game his was playing.

"Thats is unpossibles. Ladies loves us. We's Dethklok," Swisgaar argued.

"Unfortunately, it's true," Charles said as he dropped a packet of charts onto the sawblade coffee table.

Nathan picked them up and readjusted his reading glasses so he could check them over. "Fuck guys, he's right."

"Whatdawe do?" Pickles asked. "We wrote 'Kill You' ta try ta get more chicks inta metal. If dat didn't work I dunno what will."

"If whats don'ts work?" Toki asked as he stumbled into the main room, rubbing at the sleep crust still clinging to his eyelashes.

"Women don't like usch anymore," Murderface said. "I bet it'sch 'cause of me."

"There's a variety of factors involved," Charles explained, "But we need to remedy this soon."

"With what?" Nathan asked.

"I've set up an interview for the five of you on a talk show that's popular with women."

Toki put his hands up and started backing away from Charles. "No, no mores womens. I's hads enoughs of womens afters our moms."

"You guys don't really have much of a choice in the matter."

"Bulls shit," Swisgaar yelled. "Yous don'ts understands what it's like withs dem. Yous families don'ts comes tos you's house ands fucks everyones and emparress yous."

"Yeah, how come yer family never shows up an' does crazy shit ta 'umiliat you?" Pickles asked. "It's naht fair."

"That's irrelavent," Charles replied. "You need to do this interview if you want to see better sales. Until then you will be making _less _money. Do you understand? You're still paying for renovations, now is not the time to be picky about PR appearances."

"Fine, we'll do it," Nathan said, "but it better be brutal."

- (/) - (/) -

Charles should have known it was going to end like this. He could shove as many scripted answers into their hands as he wanted, but relying on them to stick to them never seemed to work.

The host of the show, a middle-aged Hispanic woman, began with pretty vague, easy questions directed as the entire band. Each member gave a short, one-sentence answer that helped the interview move forward as a decent pace. Then, out of nowhere, she addressed Nathan in particular, asking him about his rumored drop in groupie whoring. Then the interview exploded.

When Charles was researching fan trends, he found a few factors contributing to the loss of female interest. Some of it was a result of the paternity waiver debacles, and some of it was from seeing Murderface's calloused penis on national television. The biggest drop, however, seemed to come when he and Nathan started sleeping together.

Charles always figured that Nathan came to him for reasons that stood between boredom and a kind of sheltering feeling. Charles knew everything about Nathan's life already, and he was always around, so it wasn't that surprising when Nathan showed up in his office one day and asked how much he could demand from his employees. Charles had told him "Pretty much anything," and soon found himself being called to Nathan's room around once a week. After he'd "come back from the dead" the trips increased. He figured Nathan was just working out stress that had resulted from all their financial burdens.

The research seemed to show something else, unfortunately. The decline seemed to correlate to how often he and Nathan had sex. He didn't think Nathan was having sex with him _instead of_ groupies; he thought he was having sex with him _in addition to_ them.

Charles looked down at the charts, arranged in rows on his desk like a firing squad, and let out a long sigh that deflated his entire posture. He pushed a few aside and pushed a button under his desk. Part of his desk slid aside and a small TV rose from the area underneath. He pulled the remote out of his desk drawer and pressed play.

"So? Why is that any of your fuckin' business?" Nathan asked on the screen.

"Inquiring minds want to know," the host answered. She crossed her ankles under her chair and sat up properly; her body language suggesting she was proud of the reaction she was getting. She could probably hear her ratings going up.

"Yeah, why'sat any're yer fuckin' business," Pickles slurred. He had, yet again, had "a couple" of drinks before an interview. "I... I 'ope yer tits fall ahf."

"Excuse me?" the host asked.

"Whats, yous deafs or somethings?" Toki asked.

"Dumb stupids dumb sluts is whats shes is," Swisgaar said. "Likes my moms. Likes alls the ladies. Dumb sluts."

During the chaos of the interview, no one noticed that Murderface his slipped behind the host's chair until he was behind her with his palms flat against her breasts. She froze for a moment, shocked and unsure of what to do. Murderface took the opportunity to lean in and whisper in her ear, "I like women."

The directors of the show mercifully decided to cut to commercial break that point. The host was trying to beat Murderface off with her notecards as the show's theme played and the screen faded to black.

Charles learned long ago how volatile Dethklok's personalities could be, and he developed a myriad of systems to compensate for that. He wanted to give the talk show a chance, but he was ready for it to fail. It wasn't taped live, so he could have easily had the evidence destroyed and the audience bribed before a word of it got out.

Except the tape was gone when he arrived and the audience was filled with reporters. Someone had tipped them off that Dethklok was going to be there, making a huge mistake that the public would eat up as a front page headline. Copies of the tape were at every local news station within an hour. Someone was trying to cause a PR nightmare for Charles and Dethklok.

Charles thought back to all the information he'd gathered while "dead," but the organization he uncovered didn't operate like this. He didn't know why someone would want to ruin Dethklok's image in the eyes of the public, but he was annoyed that whoever it was knew how to bypass his control tactics.

He had once last plan, something the boys were going to hate more than the talk show. It was their last chance to salvage their crumbling female fanbase before feminists began picketing at concerts or something.

"My Lord," a Klokateer greeted as he entered Charles' office. "We have found their manager. She will be at this location tonight." He handed Charles a folded up piece of paper.

"Very well then, thank you."

Charles stood up from his desk as the Klokateer left and read over the address. It was for a nearby nightclub that had theme nights. He figured the band was probably going to perform there that night, which was technically illegal considering the ban was still in effect for unauthorized tribute bands.

He walked down the hall into the meeting room where the band was sitting, looking chastened like they were ready to get grounded. Charles figured that if he raised their expectations by not scolding them, they'd be in a better mood when he unveiled his newest plan.

"How'd that footage get everywhere?" Nathan asked before Charles could even sit down.

"I'm not entirely sure myself, but I can assure you I'm looking into it."

"Well looks intos it harders," Swigaar told him. "Thats was awfuls."

"It did look bad," Charles agreed, "But there is one way that was can remedy all of this."

"Kill ourschelves?" Murderface asked.

"No William, you need to extend an olive branch to some female musicians."

"Whatdo olives hafta do wit any a' dis?" Pickles asked.

"It means you need to show support for a female band. I've taken the liberty of tracking down Ladyklok and I think that-"

"No," the entire band droned in unison.

"I don't think you boys understand how much damage this footage has done. You need to undo it before it has lasting effects on your record sales."

"Maybes yous needs tos undos alls your crappy managering, huh," Skwisgaar suggested.

"Yeah," Toki chimed in, "Maybes yous needs tos knows that we's is fucks ups and we's is gonna bes a mistake all the times. Maybes yous thinks abouts that nexts time."

Charles chose to ignore them an continue his explanation. "If you let LadyKlok play one song as an opening act it would be taking great steps to improve your image."

"Dethklok doesn't do opening acts," Nathan argued.

"That's my point, Nathan."

"No, that's _my_ point," the singer corrected. "I said it. Don't take my points and call them yours. That's plaguer... plagger..."

"Plagersgisms!" Toki said, his voice so proud and excited it was practically a cheer.

"Yeah, that's plagersgisms," Nathan agreed.

Charles stared forward in silence for a moment. He learned long ago that arguments with the boys could die within second if left alone. Often times he would count to ten before continuing his point. If he started speaking in a different tone of voice, it was like they hadn't been arguing moments before. "It's common knowledge that Dethklok has never once had an opening act. That's why doing this will get you a lot of attention. You've ruined plenty of interviews in the past; people will gladly overlook old news for new news. Do you understand?"

"No, I think I get it," Nathan said. "You want us to dress up like women and be our own opening act. That's weird. That's _really_ weird."

"You know tribute bands can exists without you taking over their act." Charles' statement was met by what seemed like contemplative silence from the band. "Right? You don't always have to be your own tribute band. That was one time, and it ended horribly."

"Yas, buts theys dos it wrongs ifs wes don'ts does its ourskelves," Skwisgaar argued.

"What, 're you sayin' you _wanna_ put ahn a skirt an' some heels and go out ahn stage an' play?" Pickles asked.

"Ifs its means somes other dumbs skanks can'ts bes us thens yes."

"Dood, you got some prahblems."

"I think we schould let 'em do it." 

The band stopped and stared at Murderface.

"Well why not?" he asked them. "I mean, they're juscht, ya know, a band. Nothin' wrong with bandsch." A moment of silence passed and Murderface looked up at the ceiling as he shoved his hands in his pockets and added a rushed and mumbled "of girls."

The other guys groaned, threw their hand in the air, or smack the palms of their hands into their faces. "You jus' wanna git laid," Pickles said.

"What? What?" Murderface yelled as he walk toward them. They turned their back on him but he kept trying to make his point. "Guys, if we could get thesche sluts to suck our dicksch... think about it man. It'd be like getting head from you with tits. It's suckin' yer own cock witshout the gay."

"Murderface makes a good point," Nathan found himself saying reflexively. As soon as he heard "without the gay" his mind went "That's what you're going for, right? Agree with it."

As if Nathan was the dam, the other guys followed suit. "Yeah, okay, maybe dey were kinda hot, if I remember right," Pickles admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Whatsevers, a couples mores sluts, bigs deal," Skwisgaar said. It was as close to on-board as he was going to get.

"Yous makes sures they leaves us alones," Toki said, pointing his finger in Charles' face. "And they don'ts makes out withs each others likes our's moms."

"Uh, Toki," Nathan spoke up, "I don't, uh, I don't think those two are the same thing."

"Yeah, dat'd be, uh, a happy thing," Pickles pointed out.

"Justs tells thems to leaves us alones!" Toki screamed with his fingers clenched into fists and his eyes squeezed shut.

"I can assure you that they won't be bothering you," Charles said. "They'll be placed in a hotel until the concert. They will not be staying on Mordhaus property."

"Yeah, okay, fine, when do we get them?" Nathan asked.

Charles looked at his watch. "Now would be good."

- (/) - (/) -

A long chorus of "Uh"s sounded when Dethklok arrived outside the club an found themselves waiting in line. They weren't accustomed to waiting for anything, but it was easy to see why this was a special case. Along the outer brick wall of the club were a mass of fans waiting to get in... all dressed like one of the members of Dethklok.

"Toos fat, eyes is the wrongs colors, boots is wrongs, toos short," Skwisgaar listed at he pointed to everyone in the crowd that was dressed like him.

"Dude, look, that group looks great," a guy further ahead in the line shouted to his friend. Everyone in line turned to see what he was talking about. "They even have a manager. We got Klokateers though." The guys in that group all high-fived with the kind of clumsy enthusiasm that pretty much guaranteed they'd been pre-gaming.

Charles learned from closely monitoring the "Thunderhorse Incident" that Dethklok was safest when hiding in plain site. When he noticed that the entire gathering was in costume, he had the Klokateers drop them off a couple blocks away and didn't bring any with him. The boys were in no mood to converse with the crowd, especially because it was entirely male, so he felt it would go down without incident.

The only difficult part was the waiting. The club wasn't that large and the demand for this particular theme night was huge. No one could get in until someone left. That was the issue with anonymity; it didn't get you what you wanted when you wanted it.

An expensive black car drove up and parked right in front of the entry door. A pair of long, thin legs in black nylons popped out of the passenger seat, but the woman turned before Charles could see her face, so all he got was a view of the French braid her medium brown hair was tied back into. He stepped out of line and walked past the crowd of people, pushing aside a guy with a taped-on Toki mustache.

The woman was wearing a denim mini-skirt and a black leather jacket tailored well to her figure. She was Charles' height and skinny, with little shape to her hips or bust. Though her frame was boyish, her posture and overall movements were graceful and feminine. She was carrying a black violin case in one hand and a black clutch in the other.

"The band hired me to play with them," the woman told the bouncer. She shifted from left to right, trying to see past the tall, thick man guarding the door. Charles felt a weird tightening in the pit of his stomach. She sounded strangely familiar.

"No one left any note with me," the bouncer said. He shrugged and frowned in the most obnoxiously patronizing way possible.

"Listen, the woman that manages them e-mailed me and told me she'd pay me to play with them tonight. Though by the looks of this place, " she said as she began scanning the area, "I doubt they'd be able to affor-"

Charles and the woman froze for an eerie yet entirely familiar moment when they finally made eye contact. "Charles?" She finally asked after a few heartbeats of processing what she was seeing. "Is that you or just someone dressed like you?"

"You know dis chick 'er somethin?" Pickles asked from behind Charles, almost startling him.

"Yes," he answered. "This is Gale Sherman. She's a violinist with the London Philharmonic."

Gale's facial expression was rather blank, but one eyebrow rose at the introduction. Her hazel eyes were unbelieving behind her rectangular glasses, like an exact but female copy of Charles. "Oh come on Charles, you don't seriously think you can lie to them about this," she said, motioning back of forth between his face and hers.  
"Dids yous fucks this ladies?" Skwisgaar asked, stepping forward to inspect her until he was looming over her with the posture of a vulture. "She ams not bad, don'ts like this age groups though. Toos... ins-betweens."

"Dood, did you do 'er?" Pickles asked. "Aw man, you totally fucked this chick, didn't you? Ahfedensen I didn't even know you had a dick. High five."

"I'm not 'high-fiving' you because I didn't sleep with her. Gale's a colleague of mine in the music industry. Isn't that right Gale?"

After a few hard blinks Gale began trying to sputter out words. "Are they..." She started over again and addressed the band. "Are you guys blind or stupid or both?"

Charles closed his eyes and sighed. At least no one, not even the bouncer, was paying attention to them. At this point there was nothing he could do to stop Gale, at least nothing short of having someone kidnap her in the next 30 seconds and throw her in a ditch halfway across the country. He knew he wasn't going to do that to her.

"Nows I knows whys yous not fuck this lady." Toki said. "She a bitch, that what she is. Talks abouts hows we's stupid when she nots even knows us. Yous don't knows Toki, okay?"

"You... seriously don't get it do you?" she asked them. "I'm his twin sister. How can you not see that?"

"Yeah right, you don't look anyt'ing like 'im," Pickles said. He stepped up to the side of Gale opposite Skwisgaar and leaned in until his nose almost touched her cheek. She tried to shift away but the blonde guitarist was on the other side, still debating in his mind whether or not he "woulds totallies dos her." She was left furrowing her brow in confusion while Pickles squinted his eyes and examined her features. "Oh, no wait, yeah ya do. Sahrry bout that."

"Why are you here?" Charles asked as both Skwisgaar and Pickles returned to their original positions next to him. "This doesn't seem like your, uh, your kind of venue."

"It isn't," she answered simply, "But the Philharmonic can get, well, rather monotonous at times. When I got the e-mail from Ladyklok they said they'd pay my fee if I came here, tonight, and played 'Detharmonic' with them."

"So you haven't _met_ the band?" Charles asked, his eyes narrowing as his gut told him to be suspicious of the situation. "You just got an e-mail saying to come here."

Gale paused for a moment and then mirrored her brother's skeptical look. "And they specified tonight only. They wouldn't even consider any other night. That seems more than a bit..."

"Odd," Charles finished for her. "Very, unnervingly odd."

Gale's expression suddenly relaxed in a show of realization. "Who is the one person who would want to get the two of us in one place? Who would go through the effort of managing a Dethklok tribute band and then get us both to show up?"

"Where'd Nat'an go?" Pickles added to string of questions. "And Murderface?"

"Oh theys goes insides," Toki said. "I stays outs here. I not in the moods for the club, too much peoples screams ins your ear. Sees, there ams no lines."

The other four people stopped and turned around to face an empty sidewalk.

Inside Murderface was in heaven. When they first got in they expected to see some chicks on stage doing a crappy version of their music, but instead they found six small stages, three on each side of the room, lit in red lights and equipped with stripper poles. Murderface immediately went to watch as a girl with a blunt, triangular haircut danced to "Bloodlines." She was wearing his same black vest, but under it was a blue bikini top that she was toying with the strings to. He dug into his pockets and began dumping money on the floor in front of her.

Nathan grimaced as drunk guys in shitty Dethklok costumes bumped their sweaty asses into him with every step. He looked for a place where he could sit down and get lost in the jiggling tits so he didn't have to realize he was surrounded by douchebags and listening to himself sing.

Nathan didn't realize what it meant when he counted six mini stripper stages. There were five member of Dethklok. When he came in girl Murderface was to his left and girl Pickles was to his right. In the middle were girl Toki on the left and girl Skwisgaar on the right. The female version of himself, who he felt awkward looking at, was in the back left and had, by far, the most men surrounding her.

He still didn't notice what it meant as he sat down in the one chair that was around, surprised that no one was in it. He didn't even have time to get comfortable before a woman in a Klokateer hood and a black bikini came over and held out an open palm as if she expected money. Nathan didn't know what was going on, but he reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of what was probably a little over a grand and shoved it against the woman's chest. She gathered it up and quickly ran off with it.

He wondered what was so special about one fucking chair, but it didn't take long for him to get an answer. It had high legs so he could see above everyone and it was direly on the edge of the stage. He looked straight ahead and had an amazing view of... of...

...Ofdensen?

No, some woman dressed like Ofdensen. She had on a blue suit coat and a matching, micro mini skirt that didn't even cover her bright red underwear as she wrapped her leg around the poll and bent over backwards to give Nathan a welcoming smile, her hazel eyes playful behind an exact replica of Ofdensen's glasses. The track switched to "The Gears" and the woman stood up again. Her back still to Nathan, she let the suit coat slide off her shoulders and down her arms to reveal an unbuttoned, white dress shirt she had tied under her boobs in the "slutty schoolgirl" style. Her feet, clad in red pumps, turned and stepped over the cloth, bring her very close to Nathan. He had a clear view of her figure, which was a very developed hourglass. Even in heels, however, she was really short, so her large bust and wide hips looked almost awkward. He tried to picture her a bit taller, with less curves. He found it extremely easy to morph her face in Ofdensen's, and the hair was the right color for the fantasy as well, pulled back into a loose ponytail.

Ofdensen dropped down and bent his knees, bring himself closer to Nathan's eye level. Soon he was sitting on the edge of the stage, dragging red pumps... no, black dress shoes, up Nathan's legs and lightly over his crotch. Suddenly his manager leaned back and began untying... unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it away until he was wearing nothing but a red bra... tie.

In one quick motion, however, Ofdensen barged in to ruin his own strip show. Nathan had to blink and shake his head to stop from seeing doubles... no, triple of the CFO.

After clarity began to sink in he realized the real Ofdensen was covering the stripper with a coat and a woman who looked just like him was standing nearby with her arms crossed and eyes glaring at... another woman who looked kind of like Ofdensen.

The woman dressed at Nathan noticed what was happening and motioned to the staff to cut the music. Pickles, who had run in to the club with Charles and his sister, already has his own bottle of vodka and was half-way through it. He watched the drama unfold and laughed to himself so hard he thought he was gonna piss himself. He took a deep breath just as the music was cut and screamed, during a moment of quite, confused mumbling, "Ha ha, Ofdensen's sister's a stripper!"


	2. Negotiations

The woman dressed as Nathan looked over to the Pickles impersonator and the two exchanged knowing looks. The redhead has been the one who killed the music, and now her friend wanted her to evacuate the club the fastest way they knew how.

After switching and sliding the right parts into place on the soundboard behind her, the silence in the room was filled with the sound of some woman singing pop music. The audience was frozen for a moment, still confused about why the music had stopped, listening closely for when Dethklok would start up again. The patrons began to scream as if they just discovered they'd been poisoned; like the pop music was seeping through their veins. The rush to the door was chaotic and loud, but it got the job done in seconds.

Dethklok covered their ears and tried to steel themselves against the aural assault. The band, and Nathan especially, wanted so badly to see Charles upset about something; to see their manager ashamed of something he couldn't control for once.

Charles had let go of his younger sister and the three Ofdensens stood in a triangle, eyeing each other with entirely different yet creepily similar expressions. While Gale and Charles were glaring at their younger sister, awaiting an answer, the much shorter sibling simply looked from side to side with an expression Nathan recognized from when Charles needed to kill time in awkward silence.

The other women got off their stages and gathered around their manager, creating a strangely gender-flipped mirror that only Gale broke up the illusion of. They were mostly clad in barely-there mini skirts and bra tops. Around them more Klokateer-themed waitresses began cleaning up.

"Boys, call some Klokateers and head back to Mordhaus," he told the band without even shifting his eyes. "I'll take care of this."

"Ya, no, I think we're gonna stay right here," Pickles said, pointing to the ground. "Dis is ahwesome."

"Sorry, this is just too funny," Nathan added. He crossed his arms and adjusted his posture like he was planting himself in that spot. "This is better than Pickles at his brother's wedding."

"Is don'ts sees whats the bigs deals ams withs this chicks being likes alls womens," Skwisgaar said. "Any womens wills takes theirs clothes off for monies, yous justs needs enoughs. Butler's sister ams no surprise."

"Leah is not a stripper," Charles stated, "she's a dance instructor."

"No," the young woman corrected as she finally looked back at her siblings. "I'm a stripper. The copyright you hold that allows you to ban tribute bands has a loophole clause that allows for uses of Dethklok music in 'exotic dance' routines. When you lifted the ban you did so for all bands world-wide, but you retained the right to black ball any act you didn't like. When we got the letter that you didn't approve our tribute band status you... that's you Charles... made this my only method of getting your attention."

"Ya know, I actually fahllowed all dat," Pickles realized. "Maybe you should 'ave strippers explain da business stuff to us, ya know, in uniform."

"Is liked yous," Toki whispered, beginning to feel guilty.

Charles exhaled deeply and tried to remain calm. Dethklok had been very drunk and very insistent when they added that clause. They were worried that girls would get arrested for ripping their clothes off at concerts. The more he thought about the situation, the more he realized he wasn't going to think clearly until his sister changed her outfit. "Go put some clothes on."

"I'm 26 years old, Charles, don't act like I'm still 8," Leah told him.

"We're not going to talk about this here, so I'd appreciate it if you go get dressed."

"She's not going anywhere with you," the Nathan impersonator spoke up suddenly. Her voice was surprisingly feminine considering the goth make-up and the strength of her facial features, but she sounded genuinely pissed all the same.

"Bridget, it's all right," Leah said, reaching to her right and lacing their fingers together. "I can handle it."

"Your brother seems like a giant prick if you ask me."

"Hey, me," Nathan called to the other girl. "Why don't you shut up before I beat my own face in?" He stopped for a moment and realized the two women had been holding hands and looking into each others' eyes, even if that meant Charles' sister had to look up pretty high. "Uh... what're you two doing?"

Leah directed her answer to her brother. "Listen I don't care about whatever danger you think that being around you will put me in. I put a lot of work into getting you here, so I want you to listen."

"You stole the talk show tapes, didn't you?" Charles asked.

Leah took off her glasses and began rubbing the bridge of her nose. "You're really bad at listening."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?" Gale asked. "Sometimes I wonder which of us is actually your twin."

"You gaht paht?" Pickles asked excitedly.

"Yes, I stole the tapes," Leah admitted, bringing the conversation back on topic. "I knew you wouldn't have come to us unless you were desperate, so I created some desperation."

"You could have written a letter, you know," Charles suggested.

"And have you ignore it because you think you're protecting me? No, I wanted you here. I wanted to tell you this in person."

"That you date women?" he asked. "Because I new that already. That's not news."

"No," she answered, "I want to tell you that Bridget and I are getting married."

The entire band watched, mouths agape and expressions horrified as someone who looked like Ofdensen and someone who looked like Nathan leaned in to kiss each other. The members of Ladyklok cheered and broke the kissing couple apart for hugs and congratulations. Nathan kept repeating in his head that he shouldn't look down at Ofdensen, but he found himself doing it unconsciously anyways. The two met with awkward sideways glances and then quickly broke apart, Nathan frowning deeply at the display in front of him.

"Isch... isch thisch cool or gay?" Murderface asked.

"I's... don'ts knows, Moyrderface," Skwisgaar answered. He cocked his head to the side as if testing his reaction from a different angle.

The rest of the band did the same.

- (/) - (/) -

A picture of Leah and Bridget kissing was frozen on a large screen behind Senator Stampingston. "Gentleman, it seems Charles Ofdensen's family is alive."

"I still don't understand how this slipped by us," General Crozier said.

"It would seem that we are still underestimating this man's legal prowess. Here to tell us more is our Charles Ofdensen expert Dr. Christopher Fredrickson-O'Neil. Dr. Fredrickon-O'Neil."

A men stepped out from the senator's right and took his place in front of the screen. He was medium height and reasonably well-built. His hair was short, thick and dark with a distinguished dusting of grey, and his face seemed to always hold a faint crooked smile. "Gentlemen," he began as the picture behind him faded into a full-body shot of Charles lined up with the center of the screen, "We've always known that Charles Ofdensen was a genius at legal loopholes, lies of omission and falsifying records; we just never knew how good until now. News reports, obituaries, even hospital records stated that Abigail and Daliah Ofdensen," he explained as the two siblings appeared on either side of Charles, "were killed in the same tragic limo accident that took Charles' parents. Now that we know they're alive we're able to retrace the paper trail by going backwards. Abigail, now Gale Sherman, is a violinist with the London Philharmonic. Charles hid her in England for nearly 5 years and she didn't return to America until she received word that her brother was dead. Daliah, now Leah Williams, was a choreographer living in Seattle, but when she found out her brother was alive she put together the Dethklok tribute band Ladyklok." The band photo that Charles had shown to Dethklok appeared across the entire screen.

"How'd you even find out about this?" one of the members spoke up; the one with the obnoxious, nasally voice that hadn't said a word since he requested to go to the United States Pornography Awards.

Vater Orlaag's eyes shifted to the other side of the room. "General Crozier, I'll let you answer this."

Crozier sunk back in his seat and nearly growled at the humiliation he felt. As the Tribunal sat and waited for an answer, they could hear the general's teeth grinding against each other. "My daughter works for Daliah." He picked up the remote in front of him and pointed it at the screen. The girl playing Murderface was highlighted, and then blown up as her band mates disappeared. "She and I... don't talk much, but I have people watching her and keeping her safe. They overheard this revelation when Daliah admitted it to them thee days ago, and they reported it back to me."

"Your daughter's..." Senator Stampingston began.

"Yes," Crozier interrupted, looking away because he was too ashamed to look his colleague in theye, "She's a... bassist."

"Dear God, Crozier, I didn't know," the Senator said apologetically.

"Now now, gentleman," Dr. Fredrickson-O'Neil began, "Every family has it's dark parts, so to speak. Even, perhaps, the seemingly-infallible Charles Ofdensen. His sisters may be the key to some... more human side to him."

"Or perhaps they are allies to him," Orlaag added, "equally as intelligent and cunning. He got dangerously close to us once, and that was by himself. Imagine what he could do with the aid of people as clever as he is."

"We shall see," Selatia stated, effectively ending the conversation. "We shall see."

- (/) - (/) -

It was 1am by the time everyone returned to Mordhaus. The girls had changed into their actual performance costumes (except girl Pickles, who just wore booty shorts and a bikini top as both) and Leah has on a female-tailored pant suit that resembled Charles'. She and he brother went to talk contracts in Charles' office, but soon found they had a parade behind them.

"Go wait in the main room," Charles told everyone. "We'll be quick. And stop dressing like me. It's creepy."

"It's my costume for the act," she explained, "It's all I had packed."

The other band members stopped in the hall and looked at each other, unsure of how to act. They hadn't been introduced, and barring the chick that played Nathan, none of them had names yet.

Finally girl Pickles broke the silence. "You got booz?"

Charles and Leah were further down the hall by then, but they still hadn't been able to shake everyone.

"You don't need to come, Gale," Charles told her.

"What, so you can make _more_ reckless business decisions that lead to our sister becoming a stripper?"

"And you Nathan?" he asked.

"S'my band," the front man answered.

"You're just hoping they say something embarrassing, aren't you?"

"I wanna make sure we're represented... well... and, uh..." His shoulder sank as he gave up putting the effort into lying. "I wanna tell them what your sisters say."

"Bridget?" Leah asked.

Bridget pressed her lips together, rubbing her dark lipstick around. "The... same as him."

Leah put a hand on her hip and gave her fiance a look.

"What? You're not exactly the most open book," Bridget pointed out. "You just told me your brother was a world-famous billionaire three days ago."

"Whoa!" Nathan yelled, "You're a billionaire? Since when?"

"Since _you've _become a billionaire, Nathan."

"Wait, you take my money? That's not cool."

"No Nathan, I earn my own money."

Leah raised an eyebrow incredulously. "You never had a sneaking suspicion that I was related to him?"

"What, you're not his twin," Bridget said, looking over at Gale, "How'd you even get away with posing for Playboy? Didn't they go, 'Wow, you look just like Charles Ofdensen' or something?"

The rest of the group froze.

"Hold on," Nathan said, pulling a pen and pad of paper out of seemingly nowhere. "I need to right that down."

"Let's just get this over with," Charles said as he pushed open the doors to his office. He took his place as his desk and Leah took the chair opposite him with Gale and Bridget standing behind her. Nathan, not knowing where to stand, decided on the spot beside Charles' chair.

Charles opened a large filing drawer on the lower left side of his desk and pulled out the contract he'd drafted before they left. He laid it flat on his desk, facing Leah, and pushed it toward her.

She pushed the thick pile of papers back. "This isn't about business."

"I'm sure your clients think otherwise."

"They don't." She pulled one, folded up sheet of paper out of her breast pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her brother.

After reading it over, Charles wasn't amused. "All you want is for me to go to your wedding?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"You don't want any money? Maybe get signed to a record label? A good word about your band in an interview with Dethklok?"

"No. I manage my girls just fine without all of that, trust me."

"I don't." He continued reading. "And you want to stay at Mordhaus? All of you, Gale included, until the wedding."

"That's right. It's only two days after the concert. Five days with us around isn't going to kill anyone."

"You'd be surprised," Charles muttered under his breath as he eyed the dethbell sitting at the corner of his desk.

"You can't live here," Nathan said. "Dethklok lives here, and no one else."

"Except my brother, and all your employees," Gale pointed out. "Bodyguards, chefs, cleaners, accountants..."

"Whatever," Nathan dismissed. "Girls can't be metal. I didn't make that rule, but it's a rule, okay. You can't live here. Specially you," he added, pointing to Gale. "You're the most unmetal person I've ever met in my life. S'true."

"Are you going to sit there while he talks to me like this?" Gale asked her brother.

"He's right, the boys will never let all of you stay here. I'll find a nice hotel. I'm sure you'll all be fine there."

Without warning Leah stood up and started walking toward the door. "You'd think that," she said with a distinct smugness in her tone.

Everyone got up and followed, exchanging quizzical looks as they did.

"You can't just walk out of negotiations, Daliah," Charles said, hoping her full name would alert her to the seriousness of the matter. It didn't seem to work, however.

They came to a stop outside the main room. Once the doors were flung open, the group was greeted by a chaotic scene the likes of which was not uncommon in Mordhaus.

"They were super expensive, but Leah helped me budget out my expenses so I could afford them," the girl dressed as Pickles explained as she slid a double shot of gin between her breasts. Pickles closed his mouth around the top of the glass and tipped his head back. "I'm Kim by the way," she added before drinking out of the gin bottle herself.

The girl dressed as Toki was on her knees on the sawblade coffee table, bending backward until the back of her head also touched the table. Skwisgaar poured some vodka into her bellybutton, then leaned in to drink it. "Name's Jackie, in case you were wondering."

On the floor were Murderface and his double, sitting cross-legged and going shot for shot with a knife stabbed in the floor between them. Charles had seen this set-up before. In Murderface's words the rules were "first guy to puke stabs himself in the leg." After another shot of whiskey, the young woman wiped the side of her mouth with the back of her hand before extending it to Murderface. "By the way, name's Candice."

Toki was seated at the computer desk with girl Skwisgaar on his lap. The two were sharing a bottle of tequila and laughing at a video compilation of people falling down.. "Oh, just so you know," she said, turning in the chair so she was straddling Toki's waist. "I'm Kate."

"So boys," Leah called out to the entire room. "My brother doesn't want me and my girls staying here. What do you think of that?"

"What?" Murderface said, turning to face the door. "Don't be a dick, man."

"Ya, wha' were ya gonna do, put 'em in some... some 'otel?" Pickles asked. "Thaht's a douche move."

"Hey, don'ts be nos dildos to these lovelys ladies," Skwisgaar said, pouring more booz over his companion's stomach.

"Yeah, thems is really cools," Toki spoke up.

"There's your answer," Gale said, shifting her eyes in her brother's direction. "You have to admit, it's rather genius."

"Nothing genius about it," Leah corrected humbly. "The male sex drive is hardly a difficult thing to bargain with."

Without a word Charles looked down at the primitive "contract" in his hands. Leah watched as he pulled a pen out of his pocket and pressed the paper against the wall. She thought he was just signing it, but he spent far too much time scrawling for it to be just that. When he handed it back to her, she saw that he had added a wardrobe clause that stated she could no longer dress like him. She smiled a bit and exhaled with bemusement before signing it as well.

The contract made its way around the room, getting signed in various places and in various directions. As soon as all parties had signed it, Leah nodded to her brother and clapped her hands together twice. All the women stood ungracefully and left their counterparts to gather around their manager. "My girls have a busy day tomorrow," she explained. "We're heading to bed."

The men of Dethlok watched silently as the women filed out.

"Sees," Skwisgaar finally said, "Alls womens is sluts."

"I'm gonna... be right back... to bed... a snack..." Nathan said, mixing up the lie he was trying to tell. "Bye." He half-jogged in the direction he heard the women's voices coming from, but kept himself out of site.

Ladyklok followed the lead of a Klokateer until they reached the guest wing. Each girl picked her own room (with the exception of Bridget and Leah, who shared one) and they chatted a bit from their chosen doorways. "It's been a long night," Candice complained. "Can't we sleep in? I had to go shot for shot against an overweight guy with breath like old feet. Have some mercy."

"You have an actual performance to do after this little costume show is over," Leah reminded them. It creeped Nathan out how similarly Charles' family's speech patterns were. They were the only people he'd ever met who could sound so flat while still emphasizing so many words. "If you mess up the tribute performance no one is even going to know it was you. Remember, no actual performances means no money."

"How on earth to you put up with her?" Jackie asked Bridget. "Is she like that in bed too? You know what, don't answer that. I have to go shower. I just let some Swedish man-whore lick my stomach."

"I'm gonna go for a walk," Bridget said. "See where stuff is." She looked back at her band mates and gave them a look that told them to stop staring at her. The rolled their eyes and shut their doors.

"Don't get lost," Leah warned. "You need to practice for both shows tomorrow."

"I know. I'll be good," Bridget promised. She put her hands on her fiance's shoulders and the two exchanged a brief but tender goodnight kiss. From behind a pillar a few doors down, Nathan's angle blocked out their faces, and it almost looked like he was watching himself with Charles. It made him feel weird... really weird.

Bridget began to walk down the hall, lips tight as she tried not to grin like she was reacting to their first kiss all over again. She always got like that when Leah completed some massive business deal without breaking a sweat. Admiration washed over Bridget like the smell of perfume... a horny kind of admiration.

After the woman passed, Nathan stepped out and promptly forgot her name. "Hey... you... chick who's me..." was the best he could come up with.

She jumped a bit after being startled and then turned around slowly. "Bridget," she reminded him.

He winced. He could not think of a more un-metal name than Bridget. "C'mere. I wanna talk to you."

"Listen, you already signed the contract-" she started, but Nathan interrupted her.

"I want your help."

"With what?"

Nathan looked down both ends of the hallway at least five time in each direction. There were Klokateers in sight, but they were out of earshot. It was a capital offense to listen in on Dethklok's conversations, but Nathan didn't want to risk it. He took a step closer and leaned in toward Bridget's face.

She leaned back in an attempt to distance herself from him. "Listen, you're a great singer and all but I'm serious about this whole getting married thing and I'm no-"

Again, Nathan interrupted her, this time was a low, whispered, "How'd you... do it?"

"How do we do it? Like have sex?"

"No," he answered, motioning for her to be quiet. "How did you... do it? Get her. How do I... how did you, as me... get her... as Ofdensen?"

"Was... that a sentence?"

"Fuck, I dunno how to ask this," he admitted. "Listen your girlfriend is a bitch."

"I'm sorry, did you say you wanted my help?"

"Yeah, with that. I want you to help me with that, but not... with her."

Bridget shut her eyes and shook her head as if to reset the conversation. She finally leaned in and whispered, figuring Nathan was being cryptic to avoid someone overhearing. "Okay, we're whispering now. Just tell me what you want."

"Ofdensen."

"You want... Ofdensen? _Your_ Ofdensen. Want him to do what?"

Nathan looked down at her before shifting his gaze down the hall where Bridget once stood with Leah. He inhaled deeply and let himself deflate with a long, drawn-out "Uh," buying himself the time to gather his courage and answer her honestly.

"Oh..." Bridget finally whispered to herself. She reached her hand up to her mouth as her eyes widened in realization. "Oh God. Oh, oh my God. You... and him... Oh my God and I'm dressed like you marrying his sister... who's dressed like him. Oh God, that's gross."

Nathan was about to say something to defend himself, something about him not being gay, but his train of thought as derailed when Bridget grabbed hold of her hair and... yanked it out?

The black wig was thrown to the floor before Bridget began pulling the pins out of her sandy blonde hair. It fell in thick waves down her back. She reached up with the back of her hand and began wiping her dark lipstick off, quickly unbecoming Nathan Explosion's female double. "This is too weird. I have to tell Leah."

Bridget's escape was quickly halted when Nathan leashed her to him with his hand on her upper arm. "Don't. Don't do that. I don't want _her _help. I asked _you_. You've already... got one. I wanna know how you got it."

"I'm not helping you bed my future brother-in-law."

Nathan broke eye contact and started searching the halls again. "Uh, that's not, uh, the problem. Been there," he began, before laughing at the pun he knew was coming, "done... that. Him."

"Alright, TMI aside, what _is_ the problem?"

"I, uh, I don't know, exactly."

It was then that all the pieces finally came together for Bridget. The whispering, checking the halls. Nathan was her brother-in-law's dirty little secret. Her expression softened for the first time during their conversation. "I... think I know what you mean. I'm pretty sure I had to climb my way out of that hole once myself. It wasn't easy, and I'm sure with her brother it'll be even harder."

"Heh," Nathan laughed. "Even harder."

"I can't help you if you can't focus."

"Right, yeah, no, I'm focused." He straightened his posture, tightened his jaw and stared down at her, giving her his full attention. He had to admit, he felt much more comfortable talking to her now that she looked nothing like him.

"Okay, not so much focus," she said as she placed her hands on his chest and pushed.

"Short tour of the property," someone said from Bridget's left. The two turned to see Leah standing there, wrapped in a pink robe that went all the way to the floor. He arms were crossed and her her facial expression had a slight hint of annoyance that, to her fiance, spoke volumes.

"Listen, we'll talk tomorrow," she told Nathan. When Leah's eyebrow shot up in response, Bridget fumbled to save herself from suspicion. "About the show."

"Yeah, that... show," Nathan agreed, giving her a nod. "We'll talk."

As Nathan walked away, Bridget picked up her wig and dusted it off. "He was getting freaked out," she lied, "so I took it off."

"Too bad," Leah murmured. "I kinda like dark hair on you."

"Let's... let's not talk about that ever again..."


	3. Habit

EDIT/UPDATE: I didn't realize until I uploaded chapter 2, but the site deleted all my scene change markers. I fixed it in the first two chapters and it will be correct from this chapter on. I'm sorry of the story was confusing. It might be worth it to re-read the first two or at least skim them so the story flows better.

The next morning Nathan tried to find Bridget in the guest wing, but all the women were gone by the time he rolled out of bed around 2pm. He went to Charles' office and threw the doors open without knocking. He was half-way through asking "Where are your sisters?" when Charles, Gale and Leah looked up at him.

"Yes, Nathan?" Leah asked, looking back at him over her left shoulder. It then dawned on Nathan that Leah didn't have glasses on anymore, and her hair was down. She didn't look nearly as much like her siblings anymore.

The two women had been standing across from their brother's desk. Leah had her palms flat on the surface and Gale had her arms crossed. They had changed since the night before. Gale was wearing black dress pants with wide legs and a high waist. Her white blouse was tucked in and unbuttoned a little bit. Leah has on a simple, maroon dress with spaghetti straps and an A-line silhouette.

"Does anyone in your family, ya known, own jeans?" he asked. The three looked at each other and Charles shrugged.

Before Nathan could ask about where Bridget was, someone rushed in from behind him, knocking him on the shoulder. Skwisgaar's violent entry was soon followed by the rest of Dethklok hunched over with seething rage, shoulder blades drawn together as if containing some outburst.

"Get your dumb schlutsch out of our reherschal room!" Murderface shouted at Leah.

She didn't even blink, though she did recoil a bit from the smell of his breath. "None of you are even using it at the moment. If you hadn't thought it was a bathroom you wouldn't have known we were in there."

"Whos saids wes is nots usins it?" Toki asked. "You don'ts knows thats for sures."

"You're all in here, aren't you?" she asked. "Here, in this room? That means you're not in the rehearsal room. We need a stage to practice for a performance."

"Yes," Charles agreed partly, "But not the Dethklok performance. You're in Mordhaus now. All your business has to be Dethklok business."

"There is nuthin' more un-Dethklok... more anti-Dehtklok, than the shit you got goin' on in there," Pickles said. He sounded almost traumatized and Nathan noticed he wasn't blinking.

"What... what are they doing?" Nathan finally asked.

"Dance rehearsal," Gale answered. "It's not often my sister and I get together," she explained, making an obvious motion to eye her brother for a moment before continuing, "So I was helping her teach the girls a difficult choreography move. Your band mates threw a fit about it."

During her lengthy explanation, Nathan had lost interest and pulled a pad of paper out of his back pocket, flipping through it to find what he'd written the night before. "Hey were you really in Playboy?"

"Ugh," Skwisgaar spit out in disgust, "Is don'ts wants tos thinks abouts that. Thats is likes seeing Butler nakeds."

"Ya," Pickles agreed, "I'm all fer naked chick an' all, but not one that looks like Ahfedensen."

"Stills kinda funnys," Toki pointed out. "Alls of manager's sister takes theys clothes offs for monies."

The rest of the band snickered.

"Not my fault no one wants to see _you_ naked," Gale said to Nathan. He frowned deeply, confused by how much it hurt to have someone who looked like Charles tell him he looked bad naked.

"No need to be uh, well... a bitch," Charles said without thinking. Everyone stared at him for a moment abefore he seamlessly changed the subject. "I will set-up a separate room for you ladies to practice in."

"Fair enough," Leah said. "I'll go tell them."

"No," Nathan said, though he promptly forgot why. A few seconds of silence ticked by before Nathan restarted his thought process. "I'll... go. I'll tell them."

"That won't be necessary," Charles told him, "You need to get in the studio."

"I don't have to do what you tell me," he argued. "Right?" He turned to his band mates, who looked equally as unsure. "We don't, right?"

Pickles shrugged.

"No, you boys don't have to do things just because I tell you to, but I highly advise that you do. Nathan, it was _your_ idea to write a new song for Ladyklok to cover. You might want to thinking about actually _writing_ it."

Nathan reached for the door and threw in a quick, "I'll think about it" before heading to the rehearsal room. By the time he got there he'd completely forgotten why the girls were kicked out in the first place.

When he stepped in to the rehearsal room he both loathed and recognized the song that was playing. It was the same song they'd used to drive everyone out of the club. As he looked around, however, he realized that the lyrics weren't playing, they were being sung.

The five members of LadyKlok were on stage, dressed in matching outfits comprised of black tube tops, denim shorts and their hair up in ponytails. Four of them got behind Bridget as she continued singing some God-awful dance/pop song about having a crush on someone. Nathan cringed at the idea that she doubled as his female equivalent in her band. Her skin was naturally darker than his and her hair was so wavy and blonde that she looked like the perfect pop princess.

When she was done with the verse she fell back into their arms. With their knees bent slightly for support, the other four launched her into the air. She flipped back once and did a full twist before falling back into their awaiting arms. The landing was extremely clumsy, however, and they all ended up in a pile.

"If we can't get this right, Leah's gonna take us off this-" Bridget was yelling at the rest of them before she noticed Nathan, "performance."

"Hey," he greeted, looking everywhere but at the girls, "Can we, ya know, talk about that stuff?"

"What stuff?" Jackie asked

"Nothing," Bridget answered. "Practice something else without me." She hopped down from the front of the stage and the girls regrouped to discuss something Nathan couldn't hear.

Nathan lead her to Dethklok's large and currently empty meeting room and sat down where he usually did. Bridget took the seat across the table from him and fidgeted awkwardly. She was beginning to feel guilty for offering to help, but she couldn't afford to be honest with him. Instead, she waited for him to speak.

"Don't... don't tell anyone about this, alright," he told her. He sighed and shook his head at himself. "This is_ not_ metal."

"Don't worry, I won't. So... what did you want to know?"

"I dunno."

Bridget let her posture deflate as she leaned back in the chair. She tried to put herself in Nathan's shoes and go from there. "I'm gonna assume you want some sort of... I guess not a relationship, but you want him to want you around... but with clothes on."

Nathan snorted. "Yeah, maybe."

"Have you tried not having sex with him?"

"Uh, that's kinda all I got right now."

"Right. If Charles is anything like Leah then they might have the same tactic. I think Leah uses... used... sex to deter real intimacy."

Nathan stared back with a blank expression. Bridget reworded her explanation. "Invite him over like you're gonna have sex with him and find a way to... not have sex with him."

More silence and staring. Bridget clenched her teeth. "Do not," she began slowly, "have sex with-"

"Ofdensen?" Murderface called out as he barged into the room. "Where isch that guy?" He looked over at Nathan. "What'sch wrong with you?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, Nathan was stock still and unable to process any signals of self-preservation his brain was sending to various parts of his body.

"We're discussing the tribute show," Bridget lied, rather convincingly.

It was, however, a bad choice of a lie. "What? Without the rescht of the band? Ya know, Nathan'sch not the only member of Dethklok."

"We're... talking about... singer stuff," she said. "You'd need to talk to Candice about bass stuff. You should do that _right now_."

Murderface turned up his nose. "Maybe I will." And with that, he left.

"Are you okay?" she asked Nathan.

He continued to stare at the door, wide-eyed and frozen, like he was on lookout for Murderface to come back any minute and catch just the right, or wrong, part of their conversation.

Not knowing what to do, Bridget just kept talking. "Okay then... well, listen. My advice is to try not to have sex, okay? Try to talk to him about something; anything. Tell him something he doesn't know about you or learn something you don't know about him. Get some trust going on; some real, human interaction. If you just keep jumping into bed with him it's gonna become your only option." She didn't know if he heard any of it, but Bridget left Nathan alone to process it in case he had.

- (/) - (/) -

Charles had gotten used to Nathan's habits quickly. When Nathan wanted something band-related he'd yell about it before he was even done stepping across the threshold to the office. When Nathan was interested in... other things, he entered the office quietly, even closed the door behind him.

"Can you wait?" Charles asked.

"Having all these girls around is like... s'like havin groupies around all day and I can't fuck any of 'em. It sucks."

"I understand." Charles got up from his desk without looking at Nathan. "Let's go then." He unlocked the door leading out of his office and Nathan followed, slamming the door shut behind them and not bothering to let Charles turn on any lights to counteract the darkening effect of the thick curtains in the bedroom. He'd memorized it all by then, and his hands on either sides of his manager's face helped stabilize his aim as he pressed their lips together.

Charles pulled off his suit coat, arching his back off the wall to let the fabric slide off. Nathan took advantage of the position and wrapped his arms around his manager's waist, crushing their bodies together. Something in the back of his mind was trying to creep out, a thought or a memory or something, but Nathan shoved it back as he pressed his hips forward against Charles'.

_'Try not to have sex, okay?'_

Nathan fought back against the memory with so much mental force that he grunted out loud. After quite a few encounters, Charles had learned to interpret those grunts as a signal that Nathan was being extremely impatient. The front man barely noticed being guided so the his back was against the wall, opting instead to focus on building up enough pressure in his head to kill whatever braincells thought that listening to Bridget was a good idea. When he was done holding his breath his panting fit in well with the smooth and quick unbuttoning of his jeans before they fell to pool around his ankles. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the shitty advice as it skipped in his head like a broken record, and Charles took that as an invitation to get started.

Nathan was snapped back to reality as soon as Charles' tongue made its first trip from the base of his cock to the tip. The reality of the familiarity finally swept its way up the larger man's nervous system, tingling on the surface of his skin. There was a hand on his leg, thumb stroking gently at the inside of his thigh. Another hand was gripping the base of his shaft, squeezing and rubbing in uneven shifts, never letting Nathan predict the next sensation.

Sex with Charles was never generic. It was a hybrid of passion and calculated methodology unique only to him. As Nathan's head fell back against the wall he lost sight of his emotional investment in all this. A purely sexual relationship with Charles was enough. As he felt himself being sucked into that warm and talented mouth, it became more than enough.

He reached out for some kind of controlling leverage, knocking into a pair of glasses on his way to gripping short, thick strands of brown hair. He looked down at Charles; glasses crooked, lips red and wet around his dick, hair pulled out its perfect placement by Nathan's large fist, and fought the urge to slide his eyes shut. He didn't want to miss a moment.

Charles felt something push his shoulders back. He stood up and wiped at the corners of his lips as Nathan's mouth descended on his neck and large, rough hands crept up under his dress shirt. He closed his eyes and soon after heard the pop of his buttons flying off in opposite directions. It didn't bother him, he had plenty of shirts, and he allowed himself the small power trip that came with Nathan Explosion being unable to wait the extra 30 seconds before getting him naked.

That same selfish enthusiasm pulled of his shirt and shoved him back onto his own bed. Nathan stood over him, a tiny sliver of light coming in from the crack under the door. It was behind Nathan, silhouetting his large form, which was made larger by the angle at which his stood over Charles, observing intently as if devising some plan of attack. Nathan finally decided to tug off his boots and pants, then Charles' pants, before crawling onto the mattress himself.

These encounters were always about what Nathan wanted and what Nathan decided was going to happen next. It was a brief but welcome change from the rest of Charles' life, so he tried to let himself enjoy it. As Nathan leaned forward, Charles propped himself up on his elbows to meet half way in a kiss.

Had he not been ridiculously turned on by the sight of Charles laying naked under him, Nathan would have been frustrated that he was making every little decision. Instead, he found himself, in moment like these, almost unable to pick just one thing to do at a time. After they broke apart he pulled Charles' glasses off his face and leaned in to kiss him again. He slid his fingers under his manager's neck and tilted his head, kissing Charles so hard that he heard the other man deflate in rush of breath through his nose.

This time, like all the time before, progressed in a predictable manner for both of them. Nathan grabbed the lube out of the bedside table drawer and Charles turned around to grip the headboard of his bed. They never said anything as Nathan slid his fingers in and out of his manager. Charles never gasped from the pain and pleasure that came with the sudden intrusion; Nathan never verbally coaxed him into relaxing.

Even as Nathan thrust forward, Charles never complained. Sometimes, when the light was better, Nathan could see fingers clenched around the wood of the headboard, but they usually had sex in the dark and Charles communicated little saved for some heavy, ragged breathing. The stifled moans that occasionally escaped had become addicting in their rarity. But still, even though it lacked the "You like that"s and "Tell me how much you want it"s of cliché porno flicks, it was still amazing. The way Charles arched his back and moved his hips back against Nathan's thrusts was always so perfect Nathan could damn near hear the pleasure it caused, and few sensations could ever replace the feeling of Charles' hips under his fingertips.

Nathan came with a hard thrust forward that caused Charles to brace himself against the wall to keep from crashing into it. As his heartbeat slowed back to a normal pace and his muscles relaxed, Nathan began to realize how royally he'd messed up. He sat back on his feet and stared forward at nothing in particular, trying to figure out if there was any way to fix the situation.

He vaguely heard the faucet turn on in the adjacent bathroom, and when the door opened he squinted a bit at the bright light behind Charles' naked form. The words came out by accident, his mind having rehearsed them several times in the two minutes Nathan was left alone. "Hey, how'd, ya know, your day go?"

Before he was even done asking, Nathan's stomach knotted in awkward tension.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Charles asked.

Nathan opened his mouth before he'd even thought of a way to remedy the awkwardness, but he was surprised when a feminine yell replaced his voice. He could tell it was from a speaker, but he could tell where it was, why it was there, or who was yelling.

Charles' eyes darted toward something on the other side of the room before he grabbed his bathrobe out of the bathroom and threw it on to his body. Nathan didn't even have time to locate his jeans before Charles was out the door.


	4. Setup

Author's notes: Apologies for the lack of Nathan/Charles in this one. Thought I'd give the bands their moments.

-()-()-()-()-

The women of Ladyklok found it easy to make themselves comfortable in Mordhaus. They usually sprawled across the living room while Leah took care of the business stuff and Bridget followed her around. When Pickles, Skwisgaar, Toki and Murderface came back with a gaggle of drunk women, however, their female counterparts were in the hot tub laughing, drinking and clad in slinky bikinis.

A tall women with large, curly brown hair and tight black dress slipped Pickles' arm off her shoulder. "Who are _they_."

Kim took a sip of her drink and didn't even look over at the woman as she answer "Don't worry, skank, we're not in line to fuck the band so calm the fuck down."

The two pale, blonde twins flanking Toki also pushed themselves away from him. "Tell these bitches to leave."

"Excuse me?" Jackie asked as she climbed out of the hot tub and stood there, hands on her hips to show up her threatening muscle definition. "Did you just call _me_ a bitch?"

"How about you invite us back to an empty house next time?" one of Skwisgaar's dates said as she left with the other three in tow. On their way out they dragged the other women with them.

"Hey!" Murderface yelled. "I already paid a grand for her to schpend the rest of the hour with mmm-" he began before he realized everyone was staring at him "I mean," he laughed as he tried to buy himself time to think of his excuse. Eventually, however, he just let his head drop and shame and admitted "I.. I got nuthin'. Sche's a hooker."

"Whatever, they just would have been drunk and obnoxious all night," Candice said as she cracked her knuckles. "Dumb sluts probably have daddy issues."

"Daht's the fuckin' point!" Pickles screamed, fists balled at his sides as he face was beginning to turn red. "I swear ta Gahd you guys're the biggest fuckin' cahckblahckers I've ever fuckin' scene."

"Yous alls lieds ta us," Toki pouted. "Yous makes us thinks thats yous gonna parties withs us buts thens ya don't. Pickle is right, yous justs a bunch a clockbockers."

"Cocksbolkers," Skwisgaar tried to correct.

"That's whats I saids."

"Whatever," Murderface yelled. "That point is you chicks have partied with usch lessch timesch than Ofdenschen."

"You mean as many," Kate corrected.

"No," Pickles argued back, "Less. Even Ahfenden parties wit us sometimes. Doesn't girl Ahfdensen?"

The member of Ladyklok exchanged confused looks and the guys' egos experienced an unexpected spike. Their manager was way cooler than their manager, and it instantly became a massive source of pride for them. Murderface folded his arms and give a quick, condescending laugh. "Poor ladiesch don't even have a cool manager to shotgun beers with. It'sch... it'sch schad really. Just schad."

"Well we haven't been a band for very long," Jackie stammered, trying not to sound phased. "And... and... fuck, seriously. That's bullshit. Where's Leah?"

"Think about it," Kim answered, still sipping her drink. "Bridget's missing."

"Wells then," Skwisgaar began with a smirk plastered on his face, "we is just goinks to finds our managers and go parties some mores."

"No hold up," Kate called, stepping out of the hot tub as well, "We'll track 'em both down. Fifty bucks says our manager parties harder than yours."

Pickles laughed. "Fifty dahllers? Dood, I've wiped my ass with fifty dahllers before."

"Fine," Candice conceded. "We'll show you our boobs."

"Deal," the rest of the guys said in unison.

Kim and Candice got out of the hot tub as well and let themselves drip dry for a moment before the entire group began to funnel out of the living room. As they were walking Pickles added, "Oh, and we don't wear clothes in the hot tub."

"Yeah, no," Kate said under her breath, "that's not gay."

- (/) - (/) -

There wasn't much distance between Charles' room and the guest wing of Mordhaus, but it was enough time for a myriad of different thoughts to run through is head.

During his time being dead he knew that his attacker, know in a rare report or two as the Masked Metal Assassin, was driven by a desire to avenge his brother's death. What could be more appropriate than killing his sister as revenge? His body seemed to have disappeared from the burning wreckage of Mordhaus.

Leah had been acting weird, and though Gale seemed to either not notice or not care, it has put Charles on edge. Not even weird, Daliah Jacquelyn Ofdensen had never acted like her siblings a day in her life.

And then there was the bassist. Candice was either an awful spy or an innocent person, but Charles recognized her last name immediately and was able to confirm within minutes that she was, indeed, the daughter of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Kenneth Crozier.

He didn't even come to a complete stop before he grabbed hold of the handles on the wooden double doors that lead to Leah's guest room. His bare feet slipped at an arc before he had the leverage to push them open. The force carried him forward a bit, so he had to stand up straight and push his glasses back up his nose before he finally met the two sets of eyes that were staring at him.

Down the hall the two bands were arguing about their managers before the conversation was interrupted by a scream so loud and high-pitched that they all reached up to cover their ears. When the group rounded the corner they saw Charles effortlessly side-stepping a high-heeled shoe that had been thrown at him.

A moment later Leah emerged from the room with smeared lip gloss, tangled hair and a sheet wrapped around her. "What is," she began screaming before her voice got so high-pitched that the rest could barely make out that she was saying "wrong with you?". She threw another shoe at him but Charles moved his head the minimum three inches to the left it took to avoid it. It continued flying back and slammed Murderface in the nose.

"Leah, calm down," Charles told her, face surprisingly calm despite what he'd just seen. After the doors swung open his noticed immediately that both women were completely naked, on the bed, and one of them was tied up. Charles wasn't interested in who, so he didn't feel the need to continue staring for the sake of gathering information.

The two women scrambled to cover themselves, which was difficult for Bridget because she had to tug her way out the black silk scarves that were holding her wrists together above her head. Leah had grabbed the sheet so Bridget, not caring about the interior decorating costs, ripped the curtain off and wrapped herself in that.

Now, with her shame completely gone, Leah was screeching like nails on a chalkboard, completely aware of her audience and seemingly unable to care. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

Bridget finally emerged, less comfortable with the audience but also livid enough not to care. "You're a sick man, ya know that?"

Charles' lips pressed into a tense, thin line as he stared down at his sister. "I heard you yelling."

"Ow ow," Kim yelled.

"Dood, haht lesbo sex was goin down," Pickles announced, "in are house!"

Skwisgaar was unimpressed. "Pfft, I didn'ts hears no screamingks."

"Yeah," Leah agreed. "Bridget's not _that_ loud."

"Uh," Bridget began moaning in embarrassment.

"Sorry," her fiance apologized, "But it begs the question: How did you know we were making any noise if you were," she paused and finally noticed his outfit, "In the shower?"

Bridget took a step forward, dragging the black curtain behind her like an oversized and crudely fitting evening gown. "No," she said, "He's not wet or anything." Her face fell as she realized exactly where Charles had been. Nathan obviously didn't listen.

"I bet she is," Candice mumbled. Skwisgaar high-fived her in response.

Charles and Leah ignored them. "I was about to get in the shower," he lied.

"Then how did you hear m- oh, oh my God you have cameras in my room," Leah guessed.

"No, just microphones," Charles clarified, "No need to throw a, uh, a tantrum or anything. You're not five."

"Take them out," someone side from behind the crowd. Charles and the the rest of the group turned to see Gale with her arms crossed and her hip cocked with an statuesque air of annoyance.

"This isn't a hotel," Charles told her. "Security precautions need to be taken."

Gale pointed to the cameras on the ceiling, each of them three feet apart, clearly visible and swiveling back and forth. "We're secure, Charles."

"Those don't account for the myriad of other entry points. Windows, air vents, kamikaze pilots and the like."

"Kamikaze pilots?" Gale repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeahs," Skwisgaar groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Thats... thats ackulally happened one times. Ours fans cans bes... quites the littles goofball dildos."

"I'm doing this for your own good," Charles said, turning back to Leah.

His little sister didn't buy it. "No, you're doing this because you're a control freak. You take those microphones out right now or so help me god I will make you listen to the most awkward noises you've ever heard in your life. I don't even need Bridget, you'll just be stuck listening to my me loudly shout my fantasies about Scarlet Johanson."

"Scarlet Johanson?" Bridgeted asked, unamused.

By then Toki had somehow gotten a hold of popcorn and was sharing it with Jackie as they watched the drama unfold.

"We can discuss this in private," Charles said, looking back and forth between his sisters.

"Nah man, we were gonna party with thesche schlu-" Murderface began before every girl in the hall turned to eye him. "Schluuu-per nice ladiesch."

"Well go _do_ that," Charles told him.

"Leah," Kate began, pushing through everyone else. "These dicks say your brother can out-party you."

"What?" Leah asked. "No."

"I promise we will settle this later," Charles said. "Tell the Klokateers what you want."

"Buts yous gonna comes and parties with us later, right?" Toki asked. "Drinks yas sisters unders da tables."

"Sure."

"Kin... kin we get whatever we wahnt?" Pickles asked.

"Yes, just go," Charles said. Not wanting to risk their manager changing his mind, everyone rushed out of there like a tidal wave.

Without a single word Charles went into the guest room, unscrewed one of the pull knobs on the dresser, and walked out.

"Come on," Bridget said, grabbing Leah's hand. "Let's get changed."

"My Lord!" a Klokateer called from down the hall. "The band has just put in an order for 50 crates of Absinth and they say they have your permission."

Charles stared at his sisters for a moment, trying to take in what had just happened. Even as he walked away from them he was replaying the sound of Leah arguing and threatening him. And yet again there was Gale, standing by and watching it happen like it was normal.

Gale watched her brother until he was out of sight before silently motioning toward the room with her head. Bridget and Leah followed her in and shut the door behind them. They began getting dressed, not really concerned about Gale seeming them naked.

"If he's hacking Charles' equipment then he'll install something of his own while we'll out partying with the band," Gale said as she sat on the bed. "You have to be ready for this _now_. We won't be able to discuss it again."

Leah pulled her shirt down and turned to face her sister. "I know. I... I can..." her voice cracked and she let out a sob before swallowing it.

Gale bit her lip and tried to act unaffected. "There is no room in this plan for you to have any runaway emotions. You've been doing a great job, okay. You can't mess this up because we will not have a second chance." She stared at the floor and could hear the hitched breath coming out as Leah fought back tears. "Get it out now," she finally said. "This is your last chance to have your own emotions." She stood up and walked around the bed until she was arm's length away from her sister. "Remember that there _will_ come a day when he looks at you and the look in his eyes will tell you he feels betrayed. You need to be ready for that."

Leah nodded and sniffled but didn't let out any more sobs. Bridget watched the whole display with a completely sober expression. She stood stock still, almost like she was at attention and awaiting orders.

"Are you going to cry?" Gale asked.

Leah shook her head. "No." She sniffled again, but calmed her nerves. "No, I can do this."

"What's next?" Bridget asked.

"We give him what he wants," Gale answered. "We give him his baby sister back."

Leah nodded. "Tonight we party, and tomorrow, when I wake up, I will be exactly what he wants me to be."

"And what's that?"

Leah's eyes dropped to the floor and her shoulders tensed as she once again had to face what the answer was. "Nothing like him."


End file.
